Indecisive Soul
by wildstraydog
Summary: When his family forced him to enroll into Beacon academy, Jaune swallowed his pride and ran away, embarking on a new journey. He never wanted to be a Huntsman, he was an artist, striving to explore the world of Remnant. After a chance meeting, Jaune, begins to learn how to carve out his own destiny. (On-hiatus)
1. Listlessness

Indecisive Soul

By wildstraydog

Chapter One: Listlessness

 **So guys, Blake's Mistake's next chapter is almost finished, but in the mean time I thought I would post something a little different. This is an experimental story, and I'm curious to think what you all will think of it. This won't affect the release of Dating the Professor's Son, which will take the place of Blake's Mistake once it finishes. If anyone missed, the next chapter of The Heat and Not Even Aura can Heal All Wounds released, which I don't think people saw because of a glitch in the site.**

 **I'm starting this story out on an M-rating, which is rare for me, and silly enough, I don't know why. My original stories are usually pretty graphic in comparison to my stuff on here, perhaps I should change that? Again, let know what you guys think of this little kernel.**

A mechanical pencil scraped against the blue notepad that Jaune held up, the outlines of the bird that rested atop a cracked boulder coming together. He used the kneaded eraser and brushed away some of the fingerprint smudges that were left on the coarse paper, the white crumbs spilling into the patch of grass he sat on. The sketch only took about ten minutes to complete, but he found the final product satisfactory. The amount of detail he put in the jagged lines of the boulder really showed, and he couldn't help but smile.

Some of the passersby and merchants that were headed for the massive gates that led into the capital of Vacuo shot him queer looks. He might have been strange to some, but his hobby brought him an unlimited amount of pleasure – just the act of creating something from scratch using your hands, was magnificent. Jaune gathered his notebook and drawing utensils, placing the latter in his small matte gray bag that he slung over his shoulder. The afternoon was still young, but there was no telling how packed the hotels were.

There was also the problem of money, and the few Lien he managed to scrape together was starting to weigh thin in his pocket. Any money he needed was outweighed by the heavy sword on his back, the golden metal hilt jabbing his exposed neck – Crocea Mors, a family heirloom that he had no right to carry because of his recent actions. But what did his family expect him to do, just accept being forced to enroll in some prestigious academy for huntsman and huntresses? Jaune held no desire to fight the Grimm ever.

Yet he took the sword, but only as a means for protection in the wilds. The first couple of nights in the jungles of Vacuo weren't a cake-walk, and he half expected to die a couple of times from fright. Somehow he lived by hiding in the trees or staying in the nearby villages along the way... Jaune was beginning to think that taking the sword was a mistake, given he couldn't even properly handle it. The first time he lifted the blade, he almost fell backwards, and the hilt jammed into the side of his shoulder. The nasty bruise it left the next day still ached with every step he took.

Large plains surrounded the border to the capital, and the towering gate reached unbelievable heights. Jaune was accompanied by folks of all backgrounds on the makeshift gravel trail the city made. He tried to imagine the lines that started from the decorated doors that served as an entrance to the city, with around ten or so guards armed with top of the line rifles supplied by the Schnee Dust Company. Jaune found the creative sights aligned on top of the fore stock impressive; dyed in teal with flakes on the edges. Yes, he could even find some artistic quality in a weapon meant for killing.

He was lucky to have reached the gates in the middle of the day, before traffic got much worse. Sounds from city that were foreign to him could be heard from the other side, and the distant wail of a siren caught his ears. This would be the first time he entered such a large social environment, only hearing tales form other kids back in his village. Sure he was invited to tag along with his parents or sisters, but the horror stories they told made him avoid any such journey. Jaune was seventeen now, and he couldn't be afraid of silly thoughts – it was time he grew up properly.

Although his sisters would laugh at him for putting on a charade, Jaune was no by means reclusive – but only a tad shy when engaging with others, especially womenfolk. He could hold conversations easily, although whether they were very productive was another story. That was why he let his art do the talking, one of the only mediums he found that allowed him to express himself without shame or embarrassment. His family loved his work, but that didn't dissuade his Father from encouraging him to enroll in Beacon. Just thinking about home made him sometimes regret running away.

"Hurry up kid," an agitated man grumbled, pushing him forward. Jaune let out a sigh and made some room for the decrepit-looking old man, disregarding his rudeness on account of his old age. Everyone needed a place to feel safe, and these gigantic walls before him provided that. He still didn't know what to expect on the other side, nor where to find lodging. Where was he supposed to find some money? The citizens in the capital probably didn't appreciate outsiders begging for work – maybe he could draw a few pictures for some strangers?

To be honest, Jaune, had no idea what he was doing. He was motivated simply by the fact that he loathed the idea of becoming a huntsman, a profession that nearly killed his Father dozens of times. He could still remember the solemn look on his mother's face whenever he was gone for extended periods of time. Jaune didn't want to raise a family questioning if their own father would ever make it back alive. Maybe it was selfish thinking, but he needed time to explore what the world offered before being forced away to fight a war he wanted no part of. There were people born to slaughter the Grimm with their mighty prowess, and he wasn't one of them.

The line was moving at a steady pace, and he was only one person away from talking with the guards. He stared at the doors they were guarding, admiring the intricate designs; metal surfaces adorned with golden nails that lined the polished alloy, while the handles were painted in crimson. Atop the door was the symbol of Vacuo, three swords with wings on the edges – funny that a desert wasn't in the background. The plains that were around the city were actually rare, and the heat that Jaune usually encountered felt tame in comparison.

Whoever was before him entered through the doors, and the obnoxious creaking noise from the rusted hinges echoed. "Next in line," One of the soldier's called out, directing his gaze at Jaune. He stepped forward with caution, a gulp sounding in his throat as he let the guards inspect him. They took Crocea Mors and flipped it over, studying the collapsible shield and making sure it met all safety requirements.

"Are you a huntsman in-training or some vagabond?" one of the guards briskly asked, holding up the sword with interest. It would be hard not to recognize the insignia on the shield.

"A wanderer," Jaune answered with a low mumble, "just curious to see the city is all." The guard nodded, handing him back the blade and taking out a piece of paper that he stamped with red ink.

"Welcome to the capital." The guards moved aside and opened the doors, the glimpse of the city only several feet in front of him. Jaune almost couldn't believe how easy it was – then again he wasn't a large black creature with fangs intent on wiping out mankind.

Jaune felt a sense of anticipation as he walked through the doors, a brief moment of darkness as he stepped into a room that led out into street. Thousands of sounds rushed his senses at once, as he came upon the main street, hundreds of rushing cars driving by - the experience was almost too surreal. As he looked around, Jaune noticed the trash that littered the sidewalks, and the pungent smell that filled his nostrils. He looked for the closest kiosk that was usually by the entrances to such big cities, and found a display by some fast-food restaurant. Maybe he could find a cheap hotel downtown.

The kiosk was situated next to a bench and flashed in different colors to attract tourists. Jaune flipped through the screens and spotted a reasonable price for a hotel next to a local park that was popular. Sounded like a hospitable place, and a good spot to catch some scenery and do some sketches, maybe even of some people who would be willing to pay some Lien. That in of itself was hard to do, especially when his social skills weren't top notched. Jaune was desperate however, and a nice hot shower sounded marvelous – even a day under a roof would be welcoming by now.

The park wasn't the biggest in the city according to kiosk he read only fifteen minutes ago, but the scenery was breathtaking enough. The wide open grassy area was circled by sculptures of famous huntsman and huntresses of the ages, while in the center stood an oddly shaped fountain that was packed with children throwing coins into the water. Green benches were scattered across the area with couples laughing, as they sat under the cover of planted trees. The park was covered with a concrete trail that looped back into the street. The location was a prime spot for business as far as he was concerned, and he wasn't alone in that thought, spotting food vendors near the fences.

Jaune's money was short, and not near enough what the hotel was offering even for him. He found an empty bench next to the fountain and pulled out his notebook and utensils, hoping that someone would be willing to step forward and let him attempt to capture their image.

Minutes passed, and while he sketched out the fountain and its continuous flowing water, people walked by without a thought of his makeshift caricature skills. He would admit that he wasn't really advertising, but people had to have seen him drawing right? He let out a sigh and examined his current drawing, satisfied by the contour lines. Jaune really wished he possessed a scroll, the convenience of such a device undeniable in Vacuo's largest city. He was about to give up and take a break for some early dinner, when he noticed girl begin to approach from the other side of the park.

A girl with olive skin and curly black hair that was pulled back into tiny ringlets came into view. She had soft brown eyes and thin lips that were placid. The girl wore a black corset with a dark gray front, and on her skirt was a purple hem with laces on the back. The top part of her dress had a high collar and elbow length sleeves accompanied by small black cuffs around her tiny muscle-toned arms. The belt she wore looked to be some storage device that carried different shaped knives. There was no denying that she was huntress from one of the schools, probably Shade academy.

"Excuse me," she almost whispered, "are you doing portraits?" Jaune sprung to life, almost dropping his pencil as he leveled the notebook in his hand.

"Uh, yeah, please have a seat, Ms-?"

"Gwen, my name is Gwen Darcy."

A beautiful name for an equally cute girl. Jaune blushed at the thought, and invited her to sit down on the fountain across from the bench. "I, hope you don't mind, you're my first customer for the day." What a pathetic line, Jaune wanted to smack himself and redo the entire conversation.

"I don't know mind, I usually walk through the park for some tranquility, but I've never gotten my portrait done before." Gwen remark with a bashful smile, pulling back a stand of hair behind her ear.

Jaune lifted the book and studied her frame, putting down the outlines of her skeletal structure while acknowledging the architecture behind her. When he sketched, Jaune often drew in soft lines, using the motion of his hands to guide across the paper with few pauses as possible. He fell into the momentum and his hand etched some of the meticulous details in her clothing, filling out the shadows in the fabric and muscle she earned from years of training. A smile usually pervaded his expression when taken over by his creative muse, a timid melody from a violin playing – his oldest sister used to play the violin.

Emilia Arc, his mother, often labeled Olive and him the artistic ones of the bunch. Jaune tried his hand with several musical instruments, including his favorite, the piano. Once he began to pursue art he didn't have much time to play, and the hobby fell to the wayside. The skill never disappeared, and whenever he saw the instrument, Jaune would take a moment to sit down and play a small number. There he went again, reminiscing about life back in the village; were his parents already looking for him? Knowing his mother, she probably had the police canvassing the entire continent.

He brushed aside the lingering thoughts and focused on the picture, finishing off the highlights in her dark hair. Gwen maintained her relaxed smile, her patience outstanding considering how little movement was required to be a proper model. Jaune's only fear was that she would be dissatisfied with the final product. He lacked any real supplies to paint with, leaving the caricature bereft of some life, but it wasn't rushed - Jaune made sure of that. A sigh left his mouth, and he flipped the notepad so that Gwen could see.

"I hope you like it, I would have painted it but..." Jaune scratched the back of his neck, anxiety taking over as silence dominated the atmosphere.

Gwen stood up from the fountain and blinked a few times before ripping the drawing from the notepad. A smile tugged her pursed lips and her dark brown eyes lit up. "I love it, you're very talent...," Gwen lifted her head in thought, and blushed. "Sorry, I never asked your name."

"Oh, its ok, my name is Jaune, Jaune Arc." He extended his arm and took in her frail hand, shaking it with enthusiasm.

"So, Jaune, are you also attending Shade?" Gwen asked as she peeked behind him, her gaze directed at Crocea Mors leaning against the bench. The question didn't bother him, it was right of her to assume as much because of his age.

"Uh, no, I'm actually just visiting the city," he mumbled, "that sword's really only used for protection, though I'm not that good." Jaune finished with a chuckle, lifting the blade onto his shoulder with a struggled grunt.

"That's too bad, I'm sure my friend would like to meet you. Are you here to become an artist then?" Gwen stood up and walked over to one of the trees to lean against, folding her arms; her ample bosom came into Jaune's view. He averted his gaze and maintained eye contact.

"Yeah, something like that I suppose – to be honest I don't really know what I plan on doing next," Jaune hesitated to answer. He didn't know what to expect after running away – Remnant was huge, and there were so many places to explore. But again his predicament circled back to money, and he couldn't travel if he was penny-less.

"Well, I hope you find what you're looking for Jaune," Gwen giggled, flipping her dark hair, "I really appreciate this picture, here you go." In her hand was about fifteen Lien, a good amount for the service he provided.

"If you ever change your mind, Shade is always holding tests for students." Jaune nodded, and waved back at the first gorgeous woman he met outside of his village. He never disliked hunters, Jaune respected their line of work, but he still found the act of any violence barbaric. Sure he was a hypocrite, but he accepted the label graciously. It was comical that someone recommended a huntsman test when the very reason he left was to avoid taking one.

A few more customers dropped by within several hours, and by the end of the day he made a total of two-hundred thirty Lien; not counting the fifty in his wallet. He was surprised by how many people flocked to his station after Gwen Darcy left. Jaune thought of the day as a success, with enough money for dinner and one night at a cheap hotel – he didn't expect anything grand. He thought the upcoming night would be more perilous, with him hunkering down in some shelter to seek warmth with other homeless people. Tomorrow might not be as lucky, and there was always a chance he would have to seek employment in the city.

* * *

Downtown was livelier than the previous streets he visited, and with the sun coming down, lights of all colors sprung to life across the city. The sidewalks were packed and the late-night businesses and restaurants were flourishing with patrons. Music replaced the usual quiet night that Jaune was accustomed to, the soothing rhythms pleasing to his ears. There was so much for one person to take in, he couldn't decide on where to eat with all the flashing neon colored signs. Each restaurant appeared to specialize in a particular kingdom's style, and he felt intimidated by the urgency of everyone around him. Perhaps he should have picked a hotel first before going out?

Jaune was about to give up, overwhelmed by the choices, and settled on entering one of the little restaurants on the east side of the street. The establishment was still big even when compared to some of the larger restaurants that surrounded it, and he still found himself waiting to be seated. He would have been nervous about the prices based on the fancy décor, but as he drew closer to the entrance he spotted a menu on display and found it reasonable. The average rate for a hotel was usually about one hundred fifty Lien, so he could spare enough for a good meal, especially after camping for days.

The hostess at the front door whisked him away to a nice little booth near the windows. Jaune found himself unsure of what to do, never having been pampered to such a degree. The variety of choices on the menu was astounding, though it was embarrassing that he couldn't pronounce some of the names. He relaxed into the velvet cushions and observed the rest of the restaurant; low hanging purple lights were propped on the walls, and the kitchen could be seen in plain view near the back. In the center of the restaurant was an oval stage with an unoccupied red piano, and on the walls were paintings of famous dignitaries and huntsman from across the land.

There were four pillars scattered in the restaurant, and around the columns were the insignias of the different kingdoms in Remnant. The atmosphere was enjoyable, and the keen choice in art brought a smile to his face which the waitress noticed. He fumbled for the menu with a red hue on his cheeks, quickly deciding to order a simple breast of chicken dipped in marinara sauce with spices. As the waitress left him, he looked over to the window and noticed the sun abating, the skyscrapers blocking the cloudy orange sky. He became somber, the doubt of his actions beginning to weigh upon him again – the lethargic wave he felt often taking over any thoughts of the future.

Reality had a way of stabbing you in the back, the truth of the world coming out of nowhere in the blink of an eye. What was he going to do, keep running away? How long would this momentary journey even last... one of his sisters would eventually find him. He peered over at the sword at the opposite side of the booth, a symbol of his reluctance to accept fate. Jaune refused to accept it, that he would have to raise this sword and fight the Grimm in blinded honor. The pen was mightier than the sword, at least he liked to think so.

"I should just enjoy my meal," Jaune sighed.

Any pretense of normalcy was interrupted as bullets sprayed into the air, the lights in the chandeliers above shattering. Glass shards fell onto the table mats below, and patrons ducked onto the ground in a panic. "Everyone down on the floor!" one of the masked assailants shouted, kicking aside some of the fine wood polished chairs. Jaune remained under the table, anxiously watching the events unfold. There were about five men wielding assault rifles clad in white vests and black clothing, but what he instantly recognized were the Grimm masks they wore - They were White Fang members.

The methods of the terrorist organization were quite known, even in his small village - but why would they target some restaurant in Vacuo? Jaune peeked from beneath the table and scanned the room, the footfalls of the White Fang members drawing closer as they walked by. Near the other side of the restaurant, he saw two bodies dressed in black suits hunched over on the ground, their chests riddled with bullet holes. At the table was an older gentleman with a large white mustache in a purple jacket, trembling as the Faunus approached him. One of the members leveled his gun to the man's face and cocked a smile, removing his mask to reveal a jagged scar down his left cheek.

"Are you Treasurer Haldeman?"

"Y-yes, what do you want?" Haldeman blubbered, covering his wife and children with both hands.

"I'm surprised you don't know," the Faunus said before backhanding him. "On your knees – you're going to tell everyone here what you did." The White Fang member finished snarling, pointing the barrel of the rifle against Haldeman's cheek.

"W-what did I do," Haldeman stuttered, "I've done nothing to you people!" a grimace popped up on the Faunus, and he kicked Haldeman in the stomach. No one in the restaurant said a word as the family protested, the prevailing silence almost eerie – yet Jaune could do nothing but watch in horror.

"Do you not own the Haldeman mines outside the city!?" The Faunus yelled, pushing the barrel of the rifle deeper into his round cheeks.

"Yes, yes I do, now what is it you want!?" the Faunus huffed at his brazen remark. He pushed Haldeman down and walked toward the center of the restaurant onto the stage where the piano was located.

Jaune was able to discern the ragged appearance of the terrorist now, his clothing more modified then the others. The left side of the Faunus' face was hidden by ragged black hair that trailed down to his shoulder. He bent over the piano and played a few keys, a brief melody echoing in the restaurant. The notes weren't random, and it was obvious by his hand work that he was familiar with playing the instrument. The pleasurable song did little to sway the fears of everyone in the room, rifles still trained on anyone who dared to move. Jaune made sure that Crocea Mors remained hidden under the table with him.

"Now, Treasurer Haldeman, I want you to tell everyone here about the job cuts you made in your factories these past five months," The Faunus ordered, while stealing a bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass. "Specifically how all of those workers were Faunus... that all the human employees with the same occupation remained untouched." Jaune could see the White Fang leader's hands shake in fury, the red wine in the glass he held swirling in circles.

"That's preposterous," Haldeman replied to the speech, "the factory was losing money, cutbacks had to be made – I'm sorry that majority of the workers in the mines are Faunus!" the ragged hair Faunus tilted the glass up to his lips and swallowed the remainder of the wine, letting out a brief sigh. Jaune knew nothing of politics or the dealings of Faunus unions, but if the White Fang were targeting this individual, they must have had their grievances. Although the organization was known for their radical demonstrations.

The Faunus stepped down from the stage, his boots echoing against the wooden floor as he made his way back over to Haldeman with an expression of anger. "You will address me as Saren, is that understood?" Haldeman nodded, his eyes twitching as sweat poured down from his neck.

"The police should be arriving soon now, just as we planned. We can't begin the demonstration until we have an audience – the blood of the Faunus that you killed will be repaid." Saren preached, waving his rifle around, his anger gone and replaced with glee. Jaune was becoming nervous, knowing full well how hostage situations often turned out.

"Uh, boss, should we make someone an example?" one of the members asked from across the room. Saren tilted his head and placed the rifle down onto one of the broken tables, cupping his chin in thought.

"We might as well," Saren drawled, "grab that man." The member nodded and hefted a middle-aged man in a black suit up to his shoulders, pushing him toward the middle of the stage with Saren following.

The man struggled in the grasp of the White Fang soldiers and pleaded, "Please don't hurt me - I've nothing against the Faunus or your cause!" They forced him onto his knees and bound his arms.

"In war... they often said the Faunus were foreseeable sacrifices," Saren muttered, pulling out a revolver and placing it at the back of the man's head. "The same can be said about you people." Saren squeezed the trigger, brain matter and pools of blood spilling onto the restaurant floor. The man's body collapsed, and left on the back of his head was a gaping hole with sear marks on the edges.

Children began to cry, and people shuddered in horror at the gruesome scene. Jaune twisted his face back in revulsion, and he felt a sudden urge to vomit... he couldn't believe he just watched a man get executed. Did the White Fang really operate this way, by killing innocent civilians? The man known as Saren blew the smoke from the barrel out of his face, his finger hovering over the crowds to pick another victim. This was all too crazy for him to absorb, surely he didn't plan on needlessly killing someone else?

"The radio's going crazy boss," one of the men laughed.

A sigh left Saren, "Killing just one man isn't going to make a difference... Treasurer Haldeman, I want you to make available employment opportunities for the Faunus – you'll also pay monthly settlements to the families of the men that died in the unsavory conditions of your mines." Jaune heard a gulp from the large man, as Haldeman attempted to formulate a sentence.

"That could take weeks – I would have to talk to the board of directors-" Another gunshot rang out as Haldeman cried out in pain. Half of his left ear was blown away; blood and tears dripped onto his fat cheeks as he hunched over in pain.

"For every hour you disagree to our terms, someone else dies," Saren's eyes widened, and he craned his neck to the side to pick another victim. "Ah, how about that lovely young woman there?" his index finger pointed to a corner.

Again, Jaune looked on as the White Fang members hoisted the woman onto the stage, her constant tears causing the makeup on her eyes to run. Saren, an obvious moniker for the merciless terrorist, lifted the revolver, spinning the chamber until he was satisfied. Jaune found himself shaking in anger, his fingernails digging into his palms – he didn't understand how someone could be so cruel. The woman was about to die, someone he didn't know, and yet he felt compelled to act. Jaune was many things; weak, socially awkward, a failure, but he was never a coward. His hand impulsively reached for the hilt of Crocea Mors, tightening his grip on the grooves.

Saren's finger wrapped around the trigger of the revolver, and before he could fully squeeze it, Jaune ran out into the open with his shield lifted and blocked the gunshot. He found himself panting, the adrenaline pumping through his system. Jaune's arm was numb from the vibration of the shield, and his legs wouldn't stop quivering. He only now realized how heavy the Arc shield was, the golden insignia planted on the middle now in plain view. Jaune wanted to smile at the terrorist's reaction, his right eye twitching in brief anger.

Any confidence he felt diminished as he was pushed back.

"Who the hell are you?" Saren hissed.

"Uh... nobody special," Jaune struggled to answer, scooting back from the intimidating figure.

Another one of the men laughed at his pathetic answer. "He must be one of those students from the academy here, boss." Saren glowered at him, pulling out a curved blade attached to his back.

"Ah, of course, one of those _schools_ \- I'll enjoy killing him." Jaune stood back up and hefted the blade above his head, waiting to cross swords for the first time in his life – something he never planned to do.

They were brought out of their brief standoff when a large explosion erupted from the back of the restaurant. Debris and kitchen ware flew past Jaune and the customers, and smoke rose in the room, blinding the terrorists. Jaune could hardly see in front of him, covering his mouth to not inhale the smoke. Gunfire rang out in the background, and the grunts of the White Fang members sounded off. Saren twirled around, looking for whoever caused the sudden commotion, his expression that of fear and anxiety – the tables had been turned. While his back was exposed, Jaune ran forward with his shield, bringing down the bottom edge of his shield onto the back of Saren's neck.

Saren's head jolted forward, and he collapsed onto the floor, his eyes rolling back as the smoke began to clear. Jaune sat on the ground beside Saren's unconscious body and wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking a moment to catch his breath. He looked around and saw the carnage left after the explosion and winced at the dead bodies. The four White Fang members were dispatched without mercy; arms and legs were strewn across the floor, while one of the member's heads was twisted all the way around - another body was punctured, guts dangling from the wound. The wooden floors of the restaurant were now stained in blood, and Jaune finally lost control of his stomach, vomiting next to Saren's body. He wiped his mouth and stood up, putting away his shield so he could leave the carnage.

"Where are you going boy?" Jaune froze, a shiver running up his spine as a strong calloused hand gripped his right shoulder. Jaune looked up to see the menacing stare of a man burning into his soul.

"I... I don't know." Jaune barely answered in fright.

"Jaune... is that you?" a familiar voice called out. He looked near the gaping hole in the restaurant where pieces of rebar stuck out, and a wooden plank fell from above. Stepping over the debris, was Gwen Darcy, the girl he drew earlier in the park, and his first customer. She dusted her skirt and approached Jaune with her arms folded and an amused expression.

"You know this boy, Gwen?" The man's hold on his shoulder lightened.

"Sort of," Gwen dryly remarked, "he's the boy who drew my picture." Jaune felt the man's glare intensify, like a thousand daggers piercing him in the back.

"Oh really..."

"Calm down Cornelius, I paid him to do so." The malice induced aura dissipated, and the man known as Cornelius flashed an innocent smile.

"My apologies, you know I worry about you."

Jaune averted his eyes from the bodies on the floor, "Um, Gwen, do you mind if we talk outside?" Gwen wore a confused expression, but nodded.

"I supposed we should, I don't want blood on my new heels." Gwen and Cornelius escorted Jaune past the sprinting policemen who ran inside. Shaken men and women were escorted by the droves, while some of the children continued to bawl their eyes out in confusion. For such a welcome meeting with Gwen, the scene couldn't be more chaotic.

"So Gwen, what are you doing here?" She giggled at the question.

"Visiting my favorite restaurant," she curtly responded, "My Uncle and I often eat here, they have some of the finest cuisine, and at good prices too." Jaune scratched his cheek, questioning if the coincidence was fate, or just that - pure luck.

"I'm surprised he was here, given his disheveled appearance." Gwen's uncle, Cornelius scoffed.

"Is this place, like fancy?"

Gwen let out an amused hum. "You really don't know who I am then? At first I thought you were just being courteous."

Based on her surprise, Gwen must have been somewhat famous. He racked his brain, thinking back to anything he ever heard on the news about the last name Darcy, but nothing concrete came up. Sure he wasn't the most news savvy person ever, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. The looks her uncle were giving only caused him more anxiety – he was on edge ever since his arrival, and the results of his power were quite obvious by the corpses in the restaurant. Jaune decided to shake his head, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"Sorry, I don't know."

"My niece is Gwen Darcy," Cornelius flatly answered, "heiress to the Gwen Darcy Foundation – the largest manufacturer of electronics in Remnant." Jaune was still drawing a blank, though the importance of it didn't go unnoticed.

"Do you own a scroll by chance?" She asked.

"Uh... no, my family never got me one before I left." Gwen pulled out her customized scroll from her pocket, the back covered in bright red stripes and diamonds. She turned it over and showed Jaune a symbol above the glass screen; a circle with wings, and in the middle the letters DF in bold.

"You mean – wait, your family created the scroll?"

"That's our most well-known creation, yes, but we also do hundreds of other electronics you probably have used – I don't really like to brag about it." Gwen explained with a sigh.

"It seems the boy had no idea how popular this restaurant is." Cornelius commented, flicking a bit of earwax off his fingertip.

"The food looked good, so I went in."

"I really should thank you for saving Treasurer Haldeman, he's a very important business partner of my family. Without you, Cornelius, wouldn't have had the opportunity to flank them." So he was a distraction?

"To be honest... I don't know why I jumped in like that," Jaune mumbled, a frown replacing his usual smile. What he did was foolish – if Gwen's uncle hadn't interfered, he would be one of those bodies decaying on the floor.

"I assume because you're a decent human," Gwen complimented, "Jaune, where are you staying for the night by chance?" Jaune lifted his head, the thought of searching for a hotel forgotten after being taken hostage.

"I got some money for a hotel tonight." Gwen appeared disappointed, tilting her head. She looked lost in thought, until a smile tugged at her thin lips.

"Forget about the hotel, I'll give you some accommodations as thanks for your bravery – it's a shame my family we'll have to pay for the repairs to the restaurant, but I was always told not to leave a debt unpaid." Jaune's demeanor brightened. He was amazed by her generosity.

"I – I don't know what to say, thank you," Jaune sputtered, "I'll do my best not to inconvenience you!" Gwen let out a fluttery laugh.

"Oh you won't be staying with me," She continue to giggle, "you'll be staying with Cornelius." Jaune slowly looked at her intimidating uncle, the man directing a malicious smile in his direction. He was beginning to regret accepting Gwen's offer, but it beat sleeping on a lumpy cot.

* * *

 **It's a different story, but one I hope you enjoy. The ramifications of what Jaune witnessed will be explored in the second chapter, including where his journey is going to take him. For those who are concerned that RWBY or the others haven't shown up, don't be, they will show up in the story, but I want it to be natural and not forced. Gwen Darcy is on team NDGO if any of you forget, but since we don't know much about them other than their fight in volume 3, I decided to have some fun and expand the girl's backgrounds.**

 **No pairing has been decided yet on this story, and I think that's a good think, it doesn't limit me to persuade Jaune's decision one way or the other, although don't expect a harem out of this. Please review and let know what you think!**


	2. Broaden Horizon

Indecisive Soul

By wildstraydog

Beta: Maxaro

Chapter Two: Broaden Horizon

 **Glad to see this story got some positive reviews, at least for those who saw it. I think the site was being weird when I posted the first chapter, but oh well. Since this is an experimental story, we'll see how far it goes depending on the reception. Some of you may know that Blake's Mistake is ending real soon, and that another story will be taking its place, as will other stories when another is completed. I found it quite funny that people are already pairing Gwen and Jaune together, but that's cool.**

 **As stated before, there is no set pairing at the beginning, as I want Jaune's attraction to a girl be more natural then have it predetermined. Ship away if you want, it's all fun and games, and I'll probably take notice of the favorite pairings whenever I decide. RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum, please read and review!**

* * *

The soft linen sheets that caressed Jaune's skin as he rolled over in the queen's size bed represented only one of the wonder's he experienced while in the care of Gwen's uncle. A groan left from him as the strong penetrating rays of the sun blared through the wide sliding glass panel on the left side of the room. Jaune pinched the ridge of his nose and sat up, eyes fluttering open as his sight adjusted. With a loud yawn, he dangled his legs over the bed and stretched, remarking on the marvelous decorations that filled the room. Jaune still couldn't believe how lucky he was to be sleeping in such an expensive apartment, especially with Cornelius in the other room.

Jaune walked over to the glass panel and slid it open, stepping onto the concrete balcony that overlooked the city. He leaned on the aluminum railing and gazed at the massive skyscrapers in view, an uplifting gust brushing his messy blonde tresses as he took in the early morning sun. The sounds of traffic replaced the silence of the apartment room, and he peeked down for a moment to see the outlines of the crowds below; they appeared like small dots on a static television screen, constantly moving. Jaune never dared to watch long, the realization of his height evoking a dizzy feeling in his stomach.

The capital was beautiful, and from so high above, the clear blue skies appeared like an ocean. Jaune grabbed his sketchbook from the old mahogany shelf inside and began to outline the horizon. This was the experience he longed for, to search for magnificent vistas that he could capture with his pencil. Painting and simple drawings were like photographs, yet they required more precision. The tranquil sound of his mechanical pencil scratching the coarse white paper brought a smile to his face. He could become lost in his art for hours, but alas he would need to head out soon to make money.

The kindness that Gwen and her uncle provided was unimaginable, and he was just lucky enough to receive it. But he couldn't stay, at least not in their care – Gwen offered him one night to lodge in her uncle's glamourous apartment building, so he had no intention of overstaying his welcome. There was still much to explore of the city; the downtown area, the borders, even the nearby village to the southeast. Eventually he had plans to visit Vale, one of the most productive kingdoms in Remnant, and home to the famous Beacon academy. He still did not desire to become a Huntsman, but he heard the campus was breathtaking in its own right.

He slid the door back shut and threw down the sketchpad back onto the shelf, examining the quick doodle. Jaune lifted his head and scanned the room, admiring the numerous furniture and paintings that lined the walls. In the middle of the room sat an upholstered gray velvet sectional that sat across a fifty inch high definition television with the Darcy Foundation logo on the bottom. Jaune was more impressed by the expressionist works, especially the piece that hung above the frame of his bed. A splash of colors that dripped down the canvass like rain – within the droplets were smiling faces that spiraled in a never-ending loop. The border was made from polished wood, and he swore he recognized the style from somewhere.

A light knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and the door creaked open to reveal the butler that assisted him yesterday. The man was in late sixties, and his fading gray hair twirled around the edges. His ever pleasant smile was accompanied by the wrinkles his aged face made. Jaune was uncomfortable having someone else wait on his every need, but he made sure to make him feel at home.

"Pardon me, Mister Arc, but Master Cornelius has requested your presence downstairs. I was told to inform you that haste is required." That sounded threatening even when it came out of a polite old man.

"I'll be down in a bit then," he answered, receiving a bow from the butler. The door softly shut behind him and he let out a sigh.

Any potential shower time was cut short by the urgency of getting downstairs in time. Jaune didn't want to test Cornelius' patience, not when he could crush him like an ant with his pinkie finger. His stay last night was constantly filled with tension, and Cornelius never bothered to talk with him, sending the butler to convey any messages. Jaune put on his gear and secured Crocea Mors onto his back, praying that whatever Cornelius wanted didn't involve enduring a lot of pain.

The apartment was separated into four levels which Cornelius occupied on the one hundred floor building. Jaune was on the second floor where the rooms were situated, while downstairs was the main living area. He walked down the black metal stairs in trepidation, awaiting for Cornelius' judging stare to pierce his soul at any given moment. The pleasing odor of fried eggs entered his nostrils, and when he reached the bottom, he could see a cloud of steam exiting from the kitchen area. A large wooden table sat in the corner next to large glass panels that overlooked the city, and on the surface were decorative plates with glossy silverware wrapped in thick napkins like those seen in a high class restaurant.

He took hold of one of the chairs and sat down, the wondrous smell of breakfast becoming stronger. The dinner he was provided last night was equally amazing, although he still wanted to taste something from the east side restaurant when it was repaired. The clattering of pots alerted him, and he turned his attention toward the kitchen. The staggering presence of Cornelius walked into the room, his broad shoulders balancing three plates – a determined expression present on his handsome face. Cornelius placed one of the plates in front of him, and Jaune salivated at the marvelous display of food.

Cornelius sat across from him with a grimace, setting another plate next to his seat. Jaune unwrapped the silverware and grabbed one of his forks to dig into the meal, the texture and taste of the eggs melting in his mouth within an instant of reaching his mouth. He paused as the content of the food slid down his throat, savoring the texture with a pleasurable sigh. Cornelius was a brilliant cook – those were some of the best damn eggs he ever had in his life, though he wouldn't ever tell his mother that if she asked. A cocky grin was planted on his caretaker in reaction to his facial expressions.

"My culinary skills are equal to my fighting abilities... it is no surprise that you would find satisfaction in the breakfast I created." Jaune somehow wasn't surprised that Cornelius bragged about his cooking, brazenly signaling to Jaune that he was better than him in every way.

"Thank you for the breakfast, I appreciate it." Jaune replied, attempting to ease the awkwardness in the room. Cornelius just shrugged and began to feast on his meal. A set of double doors opened up from across the hall, and Jaune gazed upon the visage of Gwen Darcy in her plain clothes; a green shirt with the boy band Achieve men on it, and some brown shorts. A butler and maid followed not far from behind, and she nodded to Jaune with a graceful smile, taking the seat next to Cornelius.

"Ah Gwen, my lovely niece!" Cornelius shouted in glee, a wide smile overtaking his muted frown.

"How are you doing today Jaune?" Gwen asked. She grabbed the silverware on the table, and as her fingers outstretched to reach it, he noticed callouses on the edge of her white knuckles.

"I'm doing great," Jaune answered, "I have to thank you both again for the hospitality you've provided me. You really didn't have to go through all this trouble." He took another bite and relished the taste of the eggs in his mouth, awaiting for an answer from Gwen. Cornelius always settled down when she was around, like a child in front of its mother.

"We've been over this Jaune, you did our family a huge favor, so in return I let you stay the night – this is excellent bacon Uncle." Cornelius beamed a smile in her direction. It was almost nauseating to watch.

"I still thank you... how is Treasurer Haldeman doing?" Why he didn't appreciate the man's attitude toward the Faunus population, Jaune was more concerned about his family who witnessed the murder of several patrons.

"His family is doing much better – in fact they wish to thank you sometime," Gwen happily answered, "actually, I wanted to speak with you about something." She set down her silverware and wiped her tiny mouth with the decorated napkin. Her every move was so refined and delicate, unlike any of the manners his many sisters practiced back home.

"Uncle Cornelius, do you mind if I speak to Jaune alone?" His eyes widened in horror and he aimed a menacing glance in his direction.

"Pardon me Gwen, but I don't think you should be alone with this... _boy,_ there's no telling what he might try to do in my absence." Jaune let out another sigh, exasperated at the thought of his accusation. Was he really that threatening to the man? How could he expect him to do anything to Gwen after the kindness she showed him?

"I'll be fine Cornelius," Gwen assured him with a wave, "Besides, I doubt Jaune has the power to inflict any harm." Both of them laughed in unison, their chuckles echoing in the apartment. Somehow, Jaune found the act very insulting.

They watched as Cornelius left the table in a steady pace and make his way up the long set of stairs to the third floor, leaving them alone to chat. An uneasy silence overtook the table as Jaune finished his last bite of breakfast, avoiding the gaze of Gwen while doing so. The clatter of silverware caused him to jump, and he looked up to see Gwen walk past him into the living room area. Jaune wiped his face with his napkin and stood to follow, amazed by the large flat-screen television that hung in the middle of the wall. He looked over to see Gwen sit down in an upholstered blue lounge chair that was bent midway, her arms relaxed on the grooved armrests.

Jaune sat across from her on the velvet couch that faced the television, placing his gear onto the polished coffee table in front of him with extra care. Everything was so expensive, he was afraid to break anything with the slightest twitch. What bothered him more was the continuous silence between them. He was not experienced in starting conversations with a girl, especially one so beautiful and refined – what could she possibly want to talk about? Perhaps it had something to do with the restaurant, or maybe she wanted to inquire about his background. Jaune's concentration broke when he noticed her soft brown eyes settled on him.

"So Jaune, what are your plans once you leave?" a sensation of relief passed through his system, and he straightened up on the couch.

"Well, I'll probably go explore more of the city – find some more locations to make some money, and hopefully not get held hostage again." She nodded, not reacting in the slightest to his poor attempt at humor.

The butler from before walked over with a silver tray carrying two cups of tea, and he offered one to Gwen. "The city is huge, I'm sure you'll find many spots to be entertaining. Do you plan on staying in Vacuo long?" She quaintly tipped the cup onto her petite lips and sipped the tea, releasing a satisfied hum. He truly didn't know how long he was going to stay Vacuo – there was so much to discover in the kingdom.

"I don't really know... I wish to visit some of the towns and villages near the border, and perhaps eventually travel to Vale." That was his goal anyway.

"Vale is a beautiful place filled with extravagant sights. Have you ever heard of the Forever Fall - imagine a forest that is constantly in autumn. A trip to Vale by a Dust ship only takes about three to four days." Jaune's breath hitched at the thought of flying, never wanting to experience motion sickness again after his attempt to travel when he was younger; there was so much vomit splattered across the ramp.

"Actually... I don't plan on flying to Vale." Gwen erupted into a brief cough, spilling some of her tea onto the wood tiled floor. The butler handed her a napkin and she wiped the corner of her lips, mouth still agape at the suggestion. Her reaction wasn't that surprising – traveling through the wildlands was considered suicide for most people.

"Do you realize how that dangerous that is?" Gwen struggled to reply as she cleared her throat.

"Yes," Jaune answered. Of course he knew how crazy it was, especially for someone who lacked any real ability to defend themselves in a fight. "Gwen, do you believe in living in the moment?" She tilted her head in genuine curiosity, the right side of her hair tied into a ringlet bobbing.

"We live in constant fear of the Grimm, never knowing when they might try and invade – there's only so many Huntsman and Huntresses. I have no doubt in their abilities, but I want to experience what the world has to offer, to capture its beauty before another war breaks out... gosh that sounds so philosophical for someone my age." Jaune was a little nervous on what her reaction would be, he didn't mean to express his opinions so quick to someone he barely even knew. But that was how he truly felt, and it was why he didn't want to fight the Grimm.

The idea of becoming a Huntsman was a constriction on his beliefs. How could someone grow up training to kill monsters at such a young age? Society had deemed it appropriate for children to prepare for a war, whether it would be between humans or the Grimm. Jaune didn't want to fall prey to fate, to become another cog in the machine – there was more to life than just picking up a sword and gutting a Beowulf. There was a time once when he too wanted to be a hero, to become another Arc and lead the other Hunters to victory on the battlefield. Jaune never wanted to relive the violence he experienced years ago.

"Jaune, that's very, poetic," Gwen remarked, stealing another sip of tea with reserved grace. Jaune noticed a slight tug on her lips, her tanned facial muscles forming a smile on her neutral expression - He was very fond of it. "However, preservation is only human instinct – I'll be quite blunt, you don't stand a chance in the wilds." Jaune adopted a frown, lowering his gaze onto the wool rug beneath the table that was adorned with yellow spirals on the borders. Gwen's opinion of his chances only dampened his hope of one day leaving Vacuo to explore Remnant.

"That may be so... but I still have to try." He wouldn't just back down from his dream. Jaune watched as Gwen burst out in a stifled giggle, setting her empty cup onto the butler's tray. She rose from the lounge chair and beckoned him to follow her onto the balcony.

The railings of the balcony were identical to the ones in his room, and he forced himself at a distance so that he could avoid another case of vertigo. Gwen quietly commented on his unusual behavior and pointed to the north, her tanned slender fingers reflecting off the sun. With a steady gulp, he approached the spot next to her and looked forward, spotting a giant skyscraper that twisted like a snake. Near the top of the building, were giant letters supported by metal beams that spelled out Gwen's family name.

"That is the Darcy Foundation headquarters, situated near the middle of the city. Do you know what the difference is between it and this apartment building?" She turned to look at Jaune with a questioning stare, her eyelashes blinking rapidly as she waited for an answer.

How was he supposed to know the difference? "It's a lot bigger?" he let out a brief chuckle, and Gwen rolled her eyes at the response. She walked back over to the glass panel and went inside, sitting down on a stool next to the stainless marble kitchen counter.

"The Darcy Foundation does not own this building, Cornelius does. All of the servants you have seen around the apartment have aided me or my uncle at one time, and in return we secured them jobs here." Jaune whispered in amazement. The graciousness that Gwen was showing these workers was unprecedented when compared to other wealthy families. He never heard of such kindness before, just reports of scandals and protests against unfair working conditions from other companies.

"Excuse me for asking, but... why are you telling me this?" He watched as Gwen pulled out some papers, sliding it across the counter for him to read.

The white documents felt coarse against his touch, and he flipped through the three pages in confusion. Jaune wasn't able to understand most of the legal jargon, only that it identified him several times. "There is an old saying in my family Jaune: 'A Darcy never leaves a debt unpaid'. While I have continued to reiterate this for the past twenty-four hours, saving Treasurer Haldeman assisted my family greatly."

"Really, it's no big deal – besides, I didn't really do much anyway. Cornelius did most of the work." Jaune averted his gaze from the papers, embarrassed by his attempt to save Haldeman that ended almost in failure.

"I would like to repay our debt – Jaune, how would you feel if I hired you to become our family's personal artist?" Jaune stammered at the question, the ramifications of the offer astounding him.

"I-I don't know."

"You would be paid very well," Gwen suggested, tapping the papers he threw back onto the counter. "Like the other servants here, you would receive free accommodations here at the apartment of course." Jaune took a moment and sat down in the living room area, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to think. It was true he needed money, but he never intended to mooch it off someone else.

There were too many options to consider given the amount of time Gwen expected an answer. He snatched the papers up and went through the paragraphs carefully, searching for any excruciating details. She was not lying about payment, the funds surpassing anything he ever dream of making in his lifetime... the offer was too good in his opinion. But who was he kidding, he knew nothing of the business world – if the job allowed him to create art with no hindrances, then perhaps it was the only choice he had? There was no guarantee he could survive another night with nowhere to stay.

"What would I all have to do?"

"Any personal commissions I or my family request will be painted or drawn by you with a given deadline. Sometimes a picture will be requested for a new facility in construction or for upcoming charity events. There's no reason to have any reservations about your employment Jaune, I'm not forcing you to stay in Vacuo." Jaune noticed her tone soften. She pulled out a small green ballpoint pen and pushed it forward.

"So why me... you could pick anyone in Vacuo." Gwen let out a sigh.

"Our meeting in the park wasn't entirely coincidental," Gwen admitted, pulling out her scroll and flicking the screen until a page on the Vacuo parks appeared. "This past week I've been searching for an artist to paint a portrait of my family for an upcoming ball – according to some websites, the park in the central district is popular with aspiring artists." So when she approached him...

"You were that impressed?" She smirked at his question.

"Based on your appearance and tools, I wasn't impressed. Once the picture was finished however... you lack a certain professionalism, but your work is definitely topnotch." Jaune smiled at her compliment, elated that someone of such esteem would be dazzled by his artwork.

"How come you didn't hire me there?" Gwen set down her scroll and requested the butler for another cup of tea.

"Do you honestly think I would hire some random stranger I just met off the street? I did a thorough background check before planning to find you the next day." Background check... Jaune knew what that meant. Gwen knew everything about his family and background – including the fact that he recently ran away.

"So you know then?"

"That you ran away from home, yes – don't worry, I have no intention of letting your family know. You're a grown man who made his own decision to leave." Jaune was a little disheartened by how easy it was for her to find out.

"This is just a lot to process," Jaune's focus shifted from the papers to the blue sky outside and the rolling clouds, a picturesque symbol of freedom that he desired.

"I only wish to help you succeed in your dreams Jaune." Instinct – that was how Gwen described the human race's actions. Jaune found himself gripping the pen and signing the paper, the tip pressing against the signature line in one fluid motion. For now, the city of Vacuo was his new home.

"Just to let you know, I don't know how long I'll stay on – this is only temporary." He wanted to make sure that Gwen understood.

"Of course," she took hold of the papers and hit them against the counter to line them up. "Please don't treat this like a prison sentence." Gwen stood up from the counter and placed the document under her arm, heading to the entrance of the apartment. The shoe she wore squeaked against the wood floor, her petite figure gracefully walking across the room. Her posture was near perfect, honed by years of etiquette training.

"Gwen," he called out in an unsure tone. "While I'm not sure about this job... thank you, I really mean it." She nodded, maintaining the same neutral expression she carried yesterday when they met.

* * *

Tomorrow, Jaune Arc, would be an official employee under her station. She let out a relieved sigh and stepped out of the elevator to the apartment and into the apartment lobby. The servants and bellhops greeted her with enthusiastic smiles, and she politely returned them. Not known to Jaune was how stressful her previous week had been in finding a suitable artist for her Father. Every potential candidate had been rejected within seconds, the gruff man finding their styles "unsuitable" for the Darcy lineage. Gwen was positive that he would toss out Jaune's portrait of her, but instead he became captivated by the rough lines and the fluidity of the details. His reaction when she told him it was a seventeen year old boy who drew it was priceless. She was just glad the matter was resolved.

To her, Jaune appeared to be a gentle naïve boy. He was someone who dreamed big without thinking through the consequences of his decisions as evidenced by his childish attempt at running away. Maybe that was a little harsh, because she also admired his drive – they were both similar. Perhaps that was why she was so aggressive in her negotiations with him. Gwen wanted him to succeed, and that was why she presented him a packaged deal that her Father would not be aware of until she broke news later this evening. Cornelius, her doting uncle even cautioned her of helping Jaune Arc, and not just because he despised every boy who crossed her path.

Arc was indeed a gamble, so she only hoped that his painting for the ball would turn out fantastic. Gwen would allow for him to shop for materials using a bank account she set up in his name holding company funds. Cornelius would instruct him on all the rules, and by tomorrow her parents and she would be posing for a family portrait. However Jaune chose to pursue his dream after that was up to him... not that she didn't have more work for the boy. Treasurer Haldeman was quite insistent on meeting Jaune at some point, and even more interested in his "hobby", as the piggish brute so delicately called it. Pretentious slobs like him disgusted her, and helped to remind her why she wanted out of the family business.

But it still bugged her.

How was the only son of the famous Arc family not properly trained in combat? Based on eyewitness accounts, Jaune, clumsily lunged at the White Fang members and evaded their attacks by almost sheer dumb luck. She had nothing against Jaune vying for a career in the arts, but it seemed baffling that his elder sisters or father would just neglect training him. Gwen never heard of a weak Arc. Curious as she was, Gwen wouldn't stoop to delving any further into his past, not unless he was willing to share any personal secrets. Everyone was entitled to some privacy, and she would be livid if Cornelius just revealed everything about her childhood to Jaune.

Her next stop for the day was Shade academy, and she could see the grand steps by the entrance from the tinted limousine windows. The vehicle came to a top and the chauffeur rushed over to open the door for her. Gwen stepped out near the concrete steps and shielded her eyes from the bright sun, admiring the majestic lavender buttresses of the academy that were constructed almost a hundred years ago. She waved off the driver and made her way up the steps, finding the grand entrance hall doors open for the early transfer students open. A large silk red carpet had been draped onto the floor that led to the edge, and several advisors stood by to escort any lost civilian

The academy itself was separated into five equally large buildings that housed different facilities and a combat stadium for tournaments. It could be easy for anyone brand new to Vacuo to get turn around by the enormous halls and mesmerizing architecture. Gwen knew the location of everything on campus, having been escorted around the grounds by her family for years for special occasions – though her Father never dreamed that she would become a Huntress. At least he was accepting, not troubled by the fact that she would not continue the legacy the Darcy Foundation was known for. Gwen thought of it as just some big electronics company, nothing more.

"There she is!" An excited feminine voice called out. Gwen turned to see the cocky smile of her close friend and hopefully future team member, Octavia Ember.

Behind Octavia was Dew Gayl and their undesignated leader at times, Nebula Violette. Octavia could be best described as the energetic member of their group, always gossiping about the latest news and rumors. Dew was more carefree, going with the flow and maintaining an optimistic outlook on any given situation, and she loved animals; strange enough, a camel was her favorite, though Gwen had no earthly idea why. And Nebula, the most level-minded, guided each of them throughout their early school days. In many ways, Gwen, aspired to be Nebula, somewhat envying her strong will and tactical genius. Honestly though, they were all just typical teenage girls.

"Have you all been waiting long?" Gwen wryly said, earning a look of annoyance from Octavia.

"You took forever at you're uncle's place," Octavia complained, flicking back a strand of her glossy red hair that reached to her shoulders. "Don't tell me he's making you do more chores?" By chores she meant helping him around the apartment when it got too dirty. She wouldn't let the servants clean up after the messes in the dojo when they sparred.

"No, I had other business." Gwen offhandedly answered. She pulled out her scroll and walked toward the group.

"Have you all looked over your schedules yet?"

A grumble emitted from Octavia confirmed her status, while Dew handed over her scroll to Gwen. "Do you know if the initiation will be different this year? I don't suppose you're Uncle knows." Cornelius was previously an instructor at Shade academy, and was part of the reason she decided to become a Huntress. Despite his eccentric personality, he was very vigorous, outclassing many fellow Huntsman in the field.

"Afraid not," Gwen answered with disappointment, "He wants to keep it a secret from me – something about experiencing the unknown or some nonsense." That was just how he was, always contradicting himself.

"I think it's better this way," Nebula cut-in, flashing her usual upbeat smile that derailed their doubts in an instant. "I rather not know what to expect, it makes the initiation a lot more fun and unpredictable." Gwen would agree, if the results did not determine your enrollment.

"There's also the matter of how the teams will be formed – whatever the variables, we should make sure that no obstacles prevent us from meeting up." Hopefully the professors involved wouldn't pair them up at random.

"By the way Gwen," Nebula's face brightened up, her olive green eyes gleaming in curious excitement. "I heard about the incident yesterday in the market district." Gwen let out yet another sigh of the day, knowing that the inevitable discussion would arise among her friends. The terrorist attack was covered on the news by every major broadcaster after all.

"Glad you brought it up Neb, so what happened?" Octavia questioned like an anxious schoolgirl.

"Basically what the news reported," Gwen pocketed her scroll into her skirt. "I and my Uncle were headed to eat at my favorite restaurant, and when we arrived, there was a hostage situation. Cornelius took out the White Fang members, rescuing most of the people inside." She recited the incident like a news broadcaster, ignoring some of the finer details such as Jaune's appearance and heroism.

"I hear Treasurer Haldeman was there," Nebula commented.

Dew, who was usually more reserved, placed a hand on her shoulder. The dark blonde girl carried a mischievous smile that made Gwen uneasy. "Aren't you omitting some information?" She was careful not to react – her friends would always try to bait her for more details. Cornelius must have run his mouth off to Dew's parents, the three of them close friends since their younger academy days.

"What is she leaving out Dew!?" Octavia almost shouted in glee.

"Nothing scandalous I assure you." Gwen tersely replied.

"Sorry Gwen," Dew apologetically bowed with a giggle, "Cornelius was upset because Gwen allowed a boy to stay at his apartment – is that why you were visiting for so long today?" All of their attention was directed on her, their wide smiles awaiting for an exciting answer.

"Sorry to disappoint you all, but it was simply business. I was hiring the boy to be my family's personal artist. He'll be doing a portrait for us for the upcoming ball this weekend." Octavia let out a disappointed moan, while Nebula stifled a giggle in the back.

"Speaking of boys," Dew continued, "Did you hear Sun Wukong will not be attending Shade?" Gwen perked up at this, considering their history with the Faunus.

"Thank goodness, you should be glad Nebula."

"He wasn't that bad Octavia, I thought it was kind of sweet." Nebula of course was referring to how Sun would frequently pursue her attention in their preparatory school. Nebula brushed off his advances as a silly crush, but Gwen herself found the attempts downright annoying.

Her scroll vibrated, and she pulled it out to see a text message from one of her servants. They informed her that the dress she selected for the ball was now ready to pick up; the process of eliminating what dress to wear itself had become an arduous chore that involved her mother. Getting ready for any spectacular event was always a myriad of activities that involved her parents fretting over every little detail. With the Schnee Dust Company attending, her Father especially wanted to make sure that nothing was out of the order. Security would be increased after the incident yesterday involving the White Fang.

"Are you excited about the ball Gwen?" Dew asked.

"You guys are so lucky," Octavia complained, folding her arms with a dissatisfied expression. Cornelius always sent invitations to Dew's parents, though they only showed up half of the time.

"My Mother just messaged me about my dress."

"Is it true that Weiss Schnee will be there?" Nebula asked, her eyes shimmering at the chance of meeting her musical idol. Personally... she was not very fond of the youngest daughter of the Schnee family.

Weiss Schnee could be described in many words: intelligent, talented, beautiful, but Gwen likened her to a spoiled child that looked down upon others. The cause of this could be linked to her upbringing, but she liked to believe that one's personality did not have to be dependent on their surroundings. Maybe if she changed her outlook and minimized her prudish attitude, Gwen might have been able to give her a chance. However, she would continue to remain polite with the girl for the sake of maintaining a healthy relationship between the families. The only thing she found interesting was that like her, Weiss Schnee opted to pursue a career as a Huntress.

"She will be, maybe I can ask her to send you an autograph. We should be heading down to the arena." Cornelius was able to secure them a chance to practice in the academy arena to prepare for the initiation. Fighting combat drones on various settings could only prepare them for so much... but she would be ready for anything if it meant becoming a Huntress.

A good amount of training would be good for her. She would have to attend to Jaune later to discuss his first commission – if possible she would like to avoid having the rest of the girls tag along, but that might not be possible. What did she have to worry about anyway? The biggest issue on her mind at the moment was how to dissuade many of the suitors that would be attending the ball. Did Jaune ever have these problems?

* * *

 **This chapter was more of a character development one, showcasing my take on Gwen and the rest of NDGO, and how Jaune will fit into their arcs. Don't worry, there's already some action coming in the next chapter, which will end my trail run on if I should continue this story or not. Obviously the plan is not to have Jaune be around Gwen for the entirety of the story, but to move on when the time is right.**

 **If some of you missed it, the latest chapter of The Heat was released on Tuesday. I think the story keeps getting buried, maybe because of the rating? Anyway, I hope you enjoy how I depicted the team.**


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